
Book. E.i>SS 



PRESENTKD Wi 



. The Giant Elm -^^o 

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CyuH 



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"Thou canst not censure more than we 
The Vandal hand that laid thee low; 
For any fool can fell a tree, 

But it takes a god to make one grow. 

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V3 



THE GIANT ELM. 

"Thou canst not censure more than we 
The Vandal hand that laid thee low ; 
For any fool can fell a tree, 

But it takes a god to make one grow." 

About a mile southwest of the little town of Erie, Kansas, 
there was standing, until recently, the largest elm tree known 
to exist in that vicinity. It was in the "bottom lands," near 
the Neosho River, and on a tract called "The Island," on 
account of the fact that at some remote period the river had 
broken across its left bank and made an additional channel, 
through which, for many years, flowed the largest volume of 
the stream. This new channel pursued a serpentine course, 
inclosing a body of about three hundred acres of land, and 
finally regained the original stream half a mile or so below 
its point of departure. When I came to Kansas in May, 
1868, this island was covered with a dense and heavy primeval 
forest, consisting of black walnut, sycamore, elm, hickory, 
hackberry, bur oak, and some other varieties indigenous to 
this region. Some of the walnut trees were the largest that 
I ever have seen of that species. They were ruthlessly slaugh- 
tered by the first settlers, and their trunks, in the main, made 
into rails to serve as fences to inclose the cultivated patches 
of land, or the more ignoble uses of pens for hogs and cattle. 
So effectively did the axe and saw perform their work of de- 
struction that the greatest part of this island forest has been 
utterly destroyed, and now there is none but some small strips 
and scattered trees. The largest existing belt is on the south- 
eastern side of the island, and here, until about twenty years 
ago, was standing a most gigantic sycamore. By actual and 
careful measurement its circumference at the base was found 
to be thirty-two feet and a slight fraction over. But, at the 
time above indicated, this grand monarch of the forest fell a 
victim to the insatiable rapacity of man. The most of its 
trunk was converted into butchers' blocks, some of which 

3 



were sold and shipped to distant places, and one is now doing 
duty in an Erie butcher shop to-day. Such parts of the tree 
as were not suitable for this use were left to rot upon the 
ground, and, mostly, are lying there now. The elm tree of 
which I have spoken stood about fifty yards west of this 
sycamore. It was twenty-two feet and a fraction over in 
circumference at the base, and was fully a hundred and fifty 
feet high. It was in a condition of perfect health and vigor 
from base to crest, and there was not a dead branch upon it 
anywhere. In my rambles on the island in pleasant seasons 
of the year I would frequently go to this tree, and from a near 
distance would stand and admire its symmetry and wonderful 
beauty. And on such occasions there was pleasure in pon- 
dering on the ancient history it knew, the many strange things 
it had seen and heard, of the countless wild animals and birds, 
(now extinct, or nearly so) that had once reposed beneath or 
within its shade. What interesting and thrilling stories it 
could tell if it only had the gift of human speech! Of the 
Indians of the forests and of the plains, and of weird and 
solemn councils they had held beneath its broad canopy; of 
the dark-browed early Spanish explorers, who had bivouacked 
under its leafy screen; of the later black-robed Catholic mis- 
sionaries, who perhaps had performed the rites of their ancient 
church within its shade; of the shaggy buffalo and the mild- 
eyed deer that had grazed at its base; of the grim, prowling 
bears that had ascended its trunk and reposed upon its branches ; 
of the myriads of wild pigeons (now, alas! all gone) that had 
rested in its top while on their extensive flights; — of all these 
events and creatures, and many more, could the elm tell, if 
it could only talk. There are queer fancies that come to one, 
when he is alone, out in the woods, and sometimes as I stood 
gazing with admiring look upon this forest monarch, it seemed 
as if it noticed and appreciated my admiration. Its leaves 
would suddenly be agitated, and their shining faces would 
turn eagerly in my direction, and sometimes the extremity 
of a large branch would bend toward me, and seemingly shake 
itself and gesture rapidly, as if the tree were struggling to engage 
with me in some sylvan conversation. But its language was 

4 



unknown to me, so I could make no response. All I could do 
was to walk up to it, and lay my hand, with some feeling of 
reverence, on its massive trunk, and sometimes detach a little 
piece of lovely moss from its bark, put the dainty fragment 
in my pocket-book — and then resume my ramble. 

One pleasant day during the first week of January, 19 17, 
I started out to take one of my usual walks upon the island. 
The "cut-off," as the modern new channel of the river is 
called, is now clogged up, and water no longer flows through it, 
unless in time of a freshet. So I crossed it dry-shod at the 
place where the old Barnhart saw and grist mill stood about 
fifty years ago, and proceeded in the direction of the big elm. 
I casually glanced towards its locality while approaching it, 
when, to my surprise, its towering dome was not perceivable! 
What did that mean? Quickening my steps, the cause was 
soon ascertained. Prone upon the ground, crushed, broken, 
and mangled, lay the trunk and branches of the giant patriarch 
of the forest! The fatal work had been done mainly with a 
saw, and so evenly had the tree been balanced that it had been 
necessary to sever it almost entirely from the stump before 
it tottered and fell. The motive for this vandalism was next 
my subject of investigation, and it was apparent on a slight 
inspection. A medium-sized lateral limb contained a ' ' squirrel- 
hole," leading into a cavity that the squirrels had doubtless 
enlarged with their teeth and claws until it afforded space for 
their home. Later, when it was unoccupied, a little swarm 
of bees had come along and appropriated this hollow interior 
for a woodland hive. Some prying eyes had discovered this, 
so, when winter had come, and the bees were numb and dor- 
mant from cold, the finders of the "bee-tree" had come with 
saw and axe to garner their spoil. Their proceedings were all 
plainly evident. A section of the branch containing the hive 
had been cut off and split open, and then the pitiful little 
hoard of the bees had been extracted and carried away. 
Judging from the size of the cavity and all other indications, 
there was probably not more than a gallon of clear honey in 
the tree. And it was for such beggarly gain as this that the 
life of the grand elm, which had extended through centuries 

5 



of time, had been ruthlessly destroyed! I stood by the pros- 
trate trunk and contemplated the work of wreck and ruin 
with feelings of mingled sorrow and indignation. How much 
I wished that the elm could tell me the story of its life, and of 
the many never-to-be-repeated sights and sounds of by-gone 
years it had seen and heard! Maybe it did. Standing there 
alone, in profound silence, strange thoughts rushed like a flood 
into my mind. "I ruminated, I pondered, and I dreamed." 
And from these silent, intense communings events gradually 
began to take form and shape; they were palpable and real — 
I could see them happening about me. The fallen curtain of 
the past seemed to slowly rise, and the dead and gone actors 
in the years of old flitted to and fro upon the stage. So, in 
this manner, the life of the dead king of the forest disclosed 
itself, and his varied career passed in review before my eyes. 
And thus it came to pass that I now can tell you 

The Story of the; Giant Ei/M. 
"How old I was when I was destroyed I don't know; 
but, as you men creatures compute time, it must have been 
at least two hundred years. My first consciousness of life is 
faintly as far back as the time when I was a tiny seed, wrapped 
in the close folds of the winter bud and reposing on a twig of 
my parent tree. But then the snow and sleet lay thick around, 
and the wind blew sharp and cold, and, except on a few short- 
lived sunny days, I remained in a state of profound slumber. 
Presently the sun became bright and warm, and soft and gen- 
tle winds began sighing through the branches and whispering, 
'Wake up!' Then something began stirring within me, and 
I began to push and struggle to escape from my wintry prison, 
and soon emerged, a little green seed, with dainty wings to 
aid me in my flight from the parental home. I soon fluttered 
away, and fell on a spot of rich, crumbled earth, which, at a 
time when the sun was highest, was warmed by his genial rays. 
Then there came soft and pleasant rains, and I sank a little 
space into the ground, but from which ere long I reappeared 
in a new form — a little shoot of green. The days grew longer 
and warmer, and I grew apace, and presently put forth nice, 

6 



soft leaves, through which I took long breaths of the delicious 
air. And sometimes a very little bird would light upon me, 
and sing and talk to me, and tell me of the news of the forest, 
and of the things that were happening around in the woods. 
I was not yet tall enough to see a great deal myself, unless 
close at hand, so I enjoyed these visits very much, and with 
my leaves would carry on a low conversation with my pretty 
little visitor, and ask him many questions. After a while the 
winds blew chill, and a cold white substance fell on me out of 
the sky, and my leaves shriveled and turned yellow. The 
earth about me got numb and hard, and I became sleepy, 
and dozed nearly all the time both day and night. And more 
white, fleecy stuff came out of the air, but it was much thicker 
and heavier than that which came first, and then my leaves 
fell to the ground. Later I learned that this dense substance 
which fell so plentifully was what the men creatures call snow. 
One time this first winter there came so much of it that it 
inclosed me closely, and covered me all up except a small part 
of my top. And that came near causing me to have my first 
mishap. A hungry rabtbit came one night, and, squatting 
down by me, seized hold of my little body and began to gnaw 
my tender bark. I was terribly frightened, and didn't know 
what to do. But that very moment a monstrous owl, like a 
dark, noiseless spirit from above, came down with a swift, 
silent rush from a near-by tree, and seized my assailant with 
its beak and claws and disappeared with it in a dense part 
of the surrounding forest. I never forgot this narrow escape 
from what might have crippled me for life, and the owls and 
I were ever after that the best of friends. 

"Nearly all the time of my early youth was quiet and un- 
eventful. The spot where I stood had been burnt over by 
a fire set out by the red-skinned men people, which had de- 
stroyed the other trees for some distance around. So, when 
I first peered above the ground, I had plenty of sunlight and 
ample room to extend my branches. My growth was rapid. 
Other trees sprouted and grew about me, but I had got the 
start of them — and kept it. But I was only a very little bush 
when I saw for the first time some of the wild red-skinned men 

7 



creatures. At a time when the weather was quite warm, a 
small party of them, men, women, and children, came to the 
river on foot, on a fishing trip. They were armed with bows 
and arrows and a kind of spear' that they used in spearing 
the fish. Some of the fires they built were near me. I saw 
these red people frequently, and had a good look at them. 
The children were quite naked, and the men and women 
nearly so. Besides catching fish, they killed with their bows 
and arrows many small animals and birds, which they roasted 
on their fires and ate. When not fishing, hunting, cooking, or 
eating, they lay around in the shade, asleep. In all their ac- 
tions they didn't seem much above the beasts and other things 
that prowled in the woods, and were a good deal uglier in ap- 
pearance. All of a sudden, they snatched up their things and 
the smaller children, and ran away as fast as they could. 
Some of my crow friends then lit on the site of their camp, 
and helped themselves to such scraps as they could find, and 
I asked one of them what made the wild men leave in such a 
hurry, and he said it was caused by the approach of another 
party of red men, mounted and armed, who were mad at those 
with us in the woods. A few days later some vultures came 
sailing around, and stopped to rest awhile in a tall tree near 
me. They looked quite plump, as if they had been living well, 
which I learned they had. From their talk we all got the 
news that the war party overtook the peaceful fishers and 
hunters, and killed all of them, even the little children. They 
cut off the heads of the dead, and otherwise cut and hacked 
them, and then left their bodies on the ground — and the vul- 
tures and the wolves did the rest. What makes these wild 
men-things take a delight in killing those of their own kind 
is something I do not understand. None of the other creatures 
in the woods do that way. 

"It was somewhere along about these times, and when I 
was still quite small, that I formed a close friendship with some 
little birds. There were two that came to me one bright, 
warm morning, when I was in full leaf, and hopped on and 
through my branches, talking to each other in low, sweet tones 
as they fluttered through my leaves, from twig to twig. After 

8 



a while they flew away, but soon came back again, and re- 
newed their chirping little talk, looking all over and through 
me as they did so. I soon began to understand the matter 
the little birds were considering. The time had come for 
them to build a nest, and they were looking for a good, safe 
place to locate their summer residence. Their decision at last 
was in my favor, and at once they went to work building their 
bridal house, which was soon completed. It was a deep, cup- 
shaped little thing, suspended in some way from one of my 
small b'ranches. Then it was not long before I saw in the 
nest four beautiful tiny eggs, white in color, with some specks 
of reddish brown, and next I heard the faint chirpings of the 
baby birds. And now papa and mamma bird got very busy. 
Not a bug or worm of any kind dared to appear on any of 
my leaves or branches that was not seized at once by the 
parent birds and fed to their babies. I took almost as much 
interest in these helpless little things as if they were my very 
own, and would carefully bend my twigs and leaves so as to 
shield them from the rain and the dew and the sometimes too 
prying ardent rays of the sun. But the time came at last 
when the young birds crawled up to the edge of the nest, 
and, after fluttering their wings a while, finally flew away. 
But for several successive years the parent birds, or some of 
their family, came every summer and built their nest on me 
and reared a new brood. And my being so healthy and vig- 
orous when young is largely owing, I think, to the fact that 
during all the years these little birds made their summer home 
with me, they utterly destroyed all mean worms and insects 
of every kind that might have gnawed and injured my leaves 
and branches. If my little friends owed me any rent, they 
paid it many times over, by these friendly and helpful acts. 
But as the years went on, I became too tall and high to afford 
them a fitting home, and so they ceased coming to me, and 
built their nests in smaller bushes. Their places, though, were 
taken by bigger birds, and I may say something about those 
after a while. 

"My friends the crows, who traveled far and wide, had 
told me that at a great distance away, in the direction of both 

9 



the rising and the setting sun, there were many men creatures 
whose skins were white, and who were much different in many 
ways and habits from those of the red skins who lived in our 
region. But it was not until after I had become a tall, lusty 
young tree that I first saw any of the white-skinned men. 
One day in the summer-time there came a large party of them, 
riding on horses, and they camped for a day or two in the 
woods all around where I stood. They were whiter than the 
red people, but somewhat dark and swarthy, with hair upon 
their faces. They were armed with long, shining knives and 
spears, and also with something strange and terrible I had 
never seen before. These things looked like long sticks, with 
a crook at one end. They would point these sticks at any- 
thing they wanted to kill, and then would come a noise like 
thunder, with a flash of flame and a puff of smoke. And at 
once the creature pointed at would fall down dead, or maybe 
only badly hurt, and then would try to run or fly away. But 
sometimes these stick-like things only made a loud noise and 
did no harm that I could see. I afterwards learned that these 
weapons were called guns, and I got well acquainted with them 
later. These men people acted as if they were tired, and 
seemed gloomy and sullen. They sat or lay around under 
the trees, and talked but little. I learned from the crows that 
these creatures had come from a far-away country towards 
the setting sun, a land of sand and locks and mountains; but 
what their business was here I didn't find out. After staying 
a day or two, they got on their horses and rode away, in the 
direction of the rising sun, and I never saw them again. But 
some time next year the crows told that these white men went 
on until they came to, or near, a big river, and there some 
red-skinned men creatures fell upon them, and killed all the 
whites except one man, who got away somehow.* And later 
an old vulture, who had helped to eat some of the dead, told 
me the same story. It was a long, long time before I ever 
9aw again any of these white men people. I learned from the 
birds that there were some other parties that now and then 



*See ' Annals of the West," published by James R. Albach, page 671. 

ID 



came from the land of the setting sun and traveled over my 
region of country; but they did not happen to pass near me, 
so I did not see them. Duriirg all these years I lived a life of 
the most perfect quiet, contentment, and happiness. The wild 
beasts and birds of the prairies and the forest were abundant, 
and I was on the best of terms with all of them. The buffaloes, 
the deer, the antelopes, and others would come by thousands 
to the river for water, and on such occasions they would also 
frequently come and rest under my shade, or graze upon the 
rich and tender grass that grew about me And the bears, 
and sometimes a panther, would climb up my trunk, curl up 
within my forks, or stretch themselves out on one of my large 
branches, and lie there for hours. And in the still nights the 
wolves and owls gave me many a pleasant serenade. And 
those industrious creatures, the beavers, were plentiful also, 
and had their/ dams and houses all up and down the little 
creeks that emptied into the river. And in the fall of the year 
the pigeons would visit us by millions to feast upon the acorns 
that abounded in our woods. I bore nothing those birds could 
eat, but sometimes they would light on me to rest a while, 
and in such, numbers that they would bend my branches to 
that extent I greatly feared they would break; but my wood 
was tough and springy, and so no such accident befell me. 

"In the woods were big droves of turkeys, and on the 
prairies and along on the edges of the forest were thousands of 
prairie chickens. Early in the mornings these chickens would 
begin their drumming and keep it up for some time. It was 
pleasant to hear their deep, continuous booming out on the 
prairies, all around me. And in the spring and the fall of the 
year the geese and the ducks, and other water-fowl, came to 
my neighborhood in countless numbers. They were great gos- 
sippers, and always had much to say of the many strange, 
things they had seen in countries that were far away. In the 
summer-time many flocks of paroquets were seen in our woods. 
They were about the size of a pigeon, but of chunkier shape, 
with a hooked bill and yellow heads and green bodies. Their 
feathers were beautiful, and their general appearance was in- 
teresting and attractive. And there were all sorts of wood- 

II 



peckers, but the one I admired the most was a great, big 
fellow, almost as large as a crow. It had a red head and a 
black body, and sometimes it would sound a loud, trumpet 
sort of a call, which could be heard a long way off. After I 
had got to bp a big tree, the crows chose me for a nesting-place, 
and for many years every summer one or more pairs would 
build their nests and rear their young in my top. They were 
jolly, noisy birds, quite sociable and very talkative, and al- 
ways told me all the news about things that happened both 
near at home and far away. But there came a time when 
two big prairie hawks, fellov/s with wide wings and flashing 
eyes, concluded they would use me for nesting purposes — and 
then the crows had to go somewhere else. The hawks were 
fine, grand -looking birds, but they were rather quiet, and not 
of a neighborly disposition. And from the time they began 
to build their nest until they flew away with their young, all 
the other birds and the squirrels and the rabbits stayed away 
and most carefully kept out of sight. But the greatest honor 
I had in this respect was when two grand giants of the air, 
a pair of great bald eagles, made their summer home with me. 
But, like the hawks, they talked very little. Sometimes, after 
their nesting- time was over and their young were fledged, they 
would give a loud and piercing scream as they were circling 
through the air; but, save that, they said nothing. The next 
year they came back and went to fixing up their old nest as if 
they were going to live with me that summer. But right 
then some of the red-skinned men found them out, and would 
slyly creep up and shoot at them with their bows and arrows, 
and bothered them so much that at last they flew away, and 
they never came back to nest with me again. 

"Among the many interesting things I saw in those old 
days was a grand council of the red men of the plains, which 
was attended Wy some hundreds of chiefs and headmen of dif- 
ferent tribes. They came on horses, and stayed several days. 
The weather was warm, and they were almost in a naked 
condition, but they wore many strange and queer-looking orna- 
ments. Their hair was stuck full of eagles' and hawks' feath- 
ers, they had chains of bear-claws on their necks, and belts 

12 



of shells around their waists and ankles. They sat in a big 
ring under my shade, and there was much smoking, talking, 
and feasting on buffalo and deer meat. After they had gone 
away, the crows told me that their talk was in regard to having 
peace among themselves, for red men to quit killing other red 
men, and in place of that to make war on and kill the white 
men who lived far away towards the sunset. The crows said 
that they all finally agreed to this, and went away with that 
understanding. But the crows all laughed about it, and called 
the red creatures fools, and said that they would keep on killing 
one another just as they always had done ever since the crow 
people had known them. 

"But the white creatures seemed to be just as foolish as 
the red ones. A great distance away, towards the rising sun, 
there were many of the whites, as I learned from the birds, 
and it seemed that those creatures were engaged in fighting 
and killing one another the most of the time. The crows often 
talked to me about these killings. It seems there were two 
breeds or sorts of white people in this distant land, and they 
were jealous of each other, and each one wanted all the coun- 
try, and didn't want the other to have any. And the red men 
mixed up in it too, some fighting on one side and some on 
the other. Finally one tribe of the white people gave up, and 
got on some big ships and went away — and there was no 
more killing for a little while. But soon these white men who 
now owned all the country fell out among themselves, and 
began killing each other. There were many ship-loads of them 
all wearing red coats, who came across the ocean, and fell 
upon the people who were living in the land, and killed them, 
and burnt their homes. This lasted for some years, but finally 
the red-coated men quit, and got on their boats and went away. 

"It was several years after the end of this war that one 
summer there came a great flood in the river. It was the big- 
gest I ever saw, and lasted the longest. When it at last went 
down, I saw that I was on an island. The river had biroken 
through the bank on my side, and part of it flowed for some 
distance in a winding way, and then went back into the main 
river some distance below me. And as far as I could see to- 

13 



wards the west (as I had now learned the course towards the 
sunset was called), the river had also left its old channel. Up 
to this time it had flowed along at the foot of some low, rocky, 
timbered bluffs on its right; but now it had left those bluffs, and 
its course was through the lowlands. My now being on an 
island was the reason, I think, why I and so many other trees 
thereon grew to the size we did. Before this the fires that the 
red people would set out on the prairies would burn through 
our woods in the hot summer-time, and would kill or badly 
scorch and cripple many of the trees; but now these fires 
couldn't get to us to do us harm, and we grew and flourished 
without hurt or mischief from anything or anybody. The soil 
where we stood was rich and strong, and our tap-roots reached 
to the underflow of the river; so times of drouth or burning 
hot winds from the southwest did not affect us a bit. As 
the result of all these things, many of the trees on our island 
reached an immense size. There were several black walnuts 
that were fully as large as I was, and other trees, such as bur 
and pin oaks, that were not far behind. But the biggest tree 
not only on the island, but up and down the rivcx for hundreds 
of miles (so the crows said), was a gigantic sycamore. It stood 
only a few rods east of me, and was at least a third larger, 
in every respect, than I was. In the winter-time, especially, 
it presented a striking appearance, when its grand white limbs 
loomed up far above all the surrounding trees. The big prairie 
hawks seemed to have a great liking for it as a nesting-place, 
and for a long time not a summer passed without a pair of 
those birds building their nest upon it and bringing fo/th from 
its massive top a brood of their yoimg. The sycamore and 
I were close and ititimate friends. We were near enough to 
each other to talk back and forth, and we had much social 
gossip. He was taller than I was, so he could see more than 
I could of things which happened in our neighborhood, and we 
had no lack of subjects for conversation. 

Some time after that last war I have spoken about, there 
came other wars among the white people. The red-coat men 
came back again, and fought with the white creatures of this 
country, and many were killed on each side; but after a while 

14 



the red-coats went away and never came back again. Later 
on there was war between the white men of this land and 
those that lived far away towards the southwest. I did not see 
any of the things that were done in these wars, for they weie 
too far off, and all I ever knew about them was told me by 
the crows and other birds. 

"It was some years before the happening of this last war 
I have just mentioned that I first saw any of the white people 
of this country. They came, in the beginning, in very small 
parties; usually not moie than two would be together. They 
had long hair and beards, and were roughly dressed — mostly 
in the skins of animals. They looked wild and savage, acted 
as if suspicious and uneasy, and would often stop and look 
all around and listen. In their rambles they seemed to con- 
fine themselves to the banks of the river and of the little 
streams that flowed into it. I couldn't see them doing any- 
thing, and I wondered what they weie after or what they 
could be wanting. But the crows soon found out and told 
me. The business of these men was to catch, with some kind 
of a trap, the beavers who had their homes in the river and 
the creeks. They caught them for the purpose of getting 
their skins, which it seems these white people coveted very 
much. The red people did not like to have the beavers de- 
stroyed in this way, and whenever they got a good chance, 
would kill these white trappers and break their traps to pieces, 
and it was this danger that caused the killers of the poor 
beavers to be so watchful and guarded in everything they did. 

' ' It was while the war was on I have mentioned between 
the people of this country and those off toward the southwest 
that a few new and strange kind of men came to this region. 
They wore a different kind of garb from anything I had ever 
seen before. Their outer garment was a long black dress or 
gown, that came down nearly to their feet. And around their 
necks, and hanging down on their breasts, they wore chains 
of beads, and from the center of each chain was suspended a 
small bright object that glittered in the sun. I learned that 
the red men called these new-comers great medicine men, and 
said that they talked much about a Great Spirit who lived 

15 



in the clouds, and who sent the sunshine, and the snow and 
the rain and the hail. These men built themselves a house 
of logs on a little stream only a few miles from where I stood, 
and they lived there. And later they built a large house, that 
they used only for the purpose of going into when they talked 
to this Great Spirit. Their conduct was different from that 
of all the other men people I had seen, both white and red . 
They didn't try to kill anybody and didn't carry with them 
anything to kill people with. The red men also said that these 
black-gowned men claimed that this Great vSpirit was the father 
of all the men in the world, of all colors, and that he wanted 
all his children to be good, and not kill one another or do 
any other bad things ; that if they were good, then, when they 
died, they would go to a beautiful country where it was always 
summer, and where game of all kinds was plentiful, and corn 
and beans and pumpkins grew all around everywhere without 
being planted, or any care and labor whatever; that there 
were no snakes or other poisonous or bad things in this blissful 
land, and everybody there lived a life of everlasting peace, 
health, and happiness. But I think the red men liked their 
own modes of life too well to give them up for just a mere 
hope of something better after they were dead. 

"A few years after these black-gowned men appeared in 
my neighborhood, there came to where I stood a small party 
of red men, riding on their ponies. With them was an old 
man, who was one of their chiefs. I had frequently seen him 
before. They stopped under my shade, and tied their ponies 
to the bushes near by, and made a pallet at my foot of buffalo 
robes, on which the old chief lay down. I then saw that he 
was very sick, and I soon learned from the talk I heard that 
the party had stopped here because the chief was too sick 
to go on. They stayed here some days, but the sick man 
got no better. One morning he called to one of the young 
men and had a short talk with him, and then the young man 
got on his pony and quickly rode away down the river. He 
was not gone long, and when he returned one of the black- 
gowns came with him, riding on a pony. He came to the 
sick chief and talked with him awhile. From their manner 

i6 



I saw that they had met each other before, and they acted 
as if they were good friends. Presently the black-gown got 
down on his knees by the side of the sick man and talked a while, 
as it seemed, to the Great Spirit. But what he said sounded 
new and strange, and I could not understand it. Then he 
put his hands on the face and the head of the sick man, still 
talking in this strange language. While this was being done, 
the other red men all stood near by, giving close attention, 
but saying nothing. Finally the black-gown finished and rose 
to his feet. He stood a little while in silence, looking down 
sorrowfully on the old chief. He then leaned over him, placed 
his hand on his head, spoke a few words which seemed in the 
natm-e of a farewell, then turned and slowly walked away, 
shaking his head sadly as he did so. He said something to 
the other red men, then mounted his pony and departed. He 
had not been gone long before loud and mournful cries broke 
forth from the little group at my foot, and I knew from that 
and their other actions that the chief was dead. They con- 
tinued this for some time, and finally secured the dead body 
on the back of one of their ponies, and then all rode away. 
I never saw any of them again, but the crows told me that 
the body was taken to a high bluff a few miles away, where 
it was buried. The way these red men buried their dead was 
just to place them in a sitting posture, wrapped in buffalo robes, 
and then securely inclose them and cover them with big, heavy 
stones, in such a manner that they were protected from the 
wolves. 

"A few years after the death of this old chief came an- 
other war, the greatest, so far as I know, that ever was in this 
country. It seemp that the white people of this land, who 
had lived together in peace and friendship for a long, long time, 
at last fell out among themselves and went to killing one an- 
other. Those on one side wore blue clothes, and the others 
wore gray; so the birds called thejn the Blues and the Grays. 
The most of the fighting was done away off in the direction 
of the rising sun, so I never saw any of it. But, when the 
wind blew from that direction towards me, there were a few 
times that I faintly heard the thunder of the big guns that 

17 



the white people used in the war. And I sometimes saw dif- 
ferent small war parties of both Blues and Grays. The first 
that I saw was a number of the Gray men. They were on 
horseback, and came from somewhere on the river below me- 
They stopped and tied their horses in the woods around me, 
and cooked and ate their dinner. A little group of the best- 
dressed ones, and who seemed to be the leaders, sat under my 
shade while they ate their meal. They stopped only a little' 
while, then got on their horses and went on up the river. 
The birds afterwards told me that the next day these men fell 
upon a little town up the river where Blue people lived, and 
burnt the town, and took and carried away a great deal of the 
food and clothes and many of the cattle and horses of the people 
of the town.* But they didn't kill anybody, because the Blue 
men in the town did not belong to the soldiers, and so they 
had no guns to fight with, and just had to run away and hide. 
The Gray men went back to their own country by some other 
road, and I never saw any of them again. But after that, 
from my topmost branches I sometimes saw war parties of 
the Blue men. They were on horseback, in long strings, and 
went down the river valley along the edge of the prairie. But, 
as I have said, the most of the fighting and killing was done 
far from me, toward the sunrise, and all I know about that 
I got from the birds; but from all they told me, it must have 
been a terrible war. After it had lasted for some years, the 
Gray men got discouraged, and quit fighting, and then all 
the white people came together again, and were friends like 
they had been before. Soon after the war was over, the red 
men left this neighborhood and went away somewhere, and 
then the white people commenced pouring in by thousands — 
men, women, and children. 

"And then began the fatal troubles of the trees, and of 
all the wild animals and birds of this region. The first comers 
of these people built their cabins in the edge of the woods 
along the river and the little streams, and at once began cut- 
ting down the trees, so that they might have cleared places 



♦The sacking of Humboldt, Kansas, in September, 1861. 

i8 



for fidd^ wlMie tbey planted oom, potatoes, and ottafcr tilings 
to eat. Some <rf the tmnks of the trees tbe^ would use for 
tmilding tbdr catnns, others th^ would ^riit into laib to fence 
their fidds, hog-pois, and the like; but the most tfaejr just 
roHed into big piles and burnt up, in <Mder to get rid of the 
logs and famsh. Qreat big Uack walnut trees and bur oaks 
and others, that were thicker throug^i than I was and almost 
as tall, were destroyed in this manner. But for some reason 
thej let me alone. Neither was nrf fnend and near neigfabor, 
the giant sycamore, nxdested until after the white people had 
been here for several years, then one day came some men 
with saws and axes and wagons and hoises, and began sawing 
and cJiof^nng, a shtxt distance above the ground, upon the 
trunk <rf mj friend. I knew what that meant, for I had be- 
come familiar with such tUngs. I was distressed, but could 
do nothing, and greatly feared that my turn would come next. 
The sycamore finally fdl to the ground with a resounding 
crash, t' any itig with it many small trees that stood in the line 
of its fan. Then these men sawed up the biggest part of the 
prostrate trunk into shmt blocks, and hauled them away, 
leaving the most <rf the tree to rot upon the ground, where 
much of it is to this day. I afterwards learned in some way 
that these men had the ends of these short cuts smoothed <^, 
and put them in idiat they called their butcher ^gops, and used 
them for cutting up on the leveled surfaces <rf the Mocks the 
bodies <rf animak: that the white people killed and ate for 
food. It was a sad and pitiful end for the giant sycamore. 

"But the fate oi the wfld animals and birds was even 
worse. As for the buffaloes, they had quit coming to my 
nei^iborhood some time befcHe the last war I have mentioned. 
The white pec^le were then not very far off, and had scared 
or hunted the buffaloes away, and so they had gone to the big 
prairies towards the sunset. But they could not escape the 
white men, who would <rften kill great numbers of them for 
no other purpose than '^Mxt,* as they called it. And now 
there are none left, as I have been told, except a very few 
who are kept in fmson pens for the white people to look at 
as curiosities. But many deer and beaver were still here when 

19 



the first big rush of the white people came. But they were 
hunted, shot, and trapped without mercy, and very soon they 
were all gone. And the most of the birds (at least, such as 
the white people could eat) were slaughtered in like manner. 

"About the time of the close of the last war I noticed that 
there were not near as many pigeons as there used to be. One 
day, a few years after that war had ended, a small flock of 
them came along and lighted on my branches to rest a while. 
I was glad they did this, for they were the first I had seen for 
some time, and we had much talk with each other. They 
told me that not many of them were now left ; that the white 
men creatures had been killing them by millions ; that they 
would even go to their nesting homes and with long poles 
knock down the nests, and take their young ones and kill 
them and use them for food; that this practice was now 
carried on so much that they were unable to raise any young, 
and in the meantime the old birds were being killed in every 
way and manner that the men people could think of. This 
little flock seemed to be sad and gloomy, and acted as if they 
were very tired. They said that they had started out to hunt 
for a place somewhere far away, where maybe men did not 
come. After a while they flew away — and I never have seen 
nor heard of a pigeon since that day. I suppose they are 
all dead. But the prairie chickens lived longer. They were 
more cunning than the pigeons, and would hide in the grass 
so that a man might pass in a few feet of them and not see 
them. Then the men took to using their dogs to help them. 
The dogs would smell the birds, and by their actions tell their 
masters of their presence. Then the men would go to the 
spot, scare up the birds, and shoot them as they flew. And 
now the prairie chickens that used to bfe so plentiful here are 
all dead and gone. There may be some away off in lonesome 
places, but there are none in this neighborhood. I haven't 
seen one, nor heard the old-time delightful and thrilling morn- 
ing ' boom ' of any, for many years. And the pretty, harmless 
little wood ducks also are now all gone. 

"But the fate of the beautiful paroquets was, I think, the 
saddest of all. They did not live here all the year 'round, but 

20 



were only visitors in the pleasant seasons. Their homes, and 
where they built their nests and hatched their young, were 
far away, in a warmer region. The white people did not de- 
sire them as food, but the poor birds had another fatal attrac- 
tion that brought about their death and destruction, and which 
was their feathers. They were remarkably beautiful, and the 
rich white women were covetous of them, to wear in their 
hats and bonnets, and would pay large prices for them. So 
the men of the country where these birds lived would himt 
and eagerly kill them to get this money. It was easy to do this 
when the young birds were hatched and yet in the nests, for 
then the old birds would linger around the spot, and could be 
easily got at and killed. But as the young ones did not yet 
have these fine feathers, they were of no value, and would be 
left to die wretchedly in the nest, of starvation. And so it 
now is that these harmless, bfeautiful little birds are all gone, 
except maybe a very few that have gone away off into thick 
and gloomy woods where the white men do not go. But 
while there were any, the rich white women had their feathers, 
and I suppose they felt very proud. What did it matter to 
them if their ornaments were procured at the expense of 
the lives of both the nursing mothers and the helpless little 
baby birds? 

"The story of my life is now coming to an end, so I will 
here tell some of the circumstances that led up to my de- 
struction, so far as I know. There was one of my large 
branches that in some way, in the course of my life, sustained 
some injury. It still put forth some green t\A4gs and leaves, 
but in a portion of its center it decayed and rotted, and be- 
came partially hollow. One day a pair of squirrels came along, 
ran along this limb, looking at it, and seemed to take quite 
an interest in it. Soon they went to work with teeth and 
claws on a decayed knot-hole that communicated with the 
hollow inside, and it was not long before they made this little 
entrance large enough to admit their bodies. Then they took 
up their abode therein and made it their home. They were 
bright, fine little chaps, and I was glad to have them there 
with me. They would run around all over me, skipping, jump- 

21 



ing, and playing, and seemed to be always happy. And it 
came to pass that after a while there were some cute little baby 
squirrels in that hollow branch, and then the mother squirrel 
stayed pretty close to home. But one day she went to the 
river for a drink of water, and on coming back met a white 
boy with a gun and dog. She made a frantic effort to reach 
her home tree, bjit was weak from nursing, and the dog headed 
her off, and she was compelled to climb a little tree near me. 
Then that boy walked up and shot her, and she fell to the. 
ground in dying convulsions, splashing the fallen leaves and 
the grass with her blood. The boy picked her up and looked 
at her, saw that she had been nursing, so I suppose he con- 
cluded she was not fit for food, and he threw the body down 
on the ground and walked away. That afternoon a white 
man's hog came along, found the little carcass, and tore it to 
pieces and devoured it. Soon I began to hear the baby squir- 
rels making pitiful little calls for their mother, plaintive squeak- 
ing cries, but she could not come. But these sounds of distress 
gradually became fewer, and fainter, and fainter, and after a 
while ceased altogether. The little ones were dead, having 
perished miserably from hunger and starvation. No squirrels 
ever came again to this hollow limb to stay, but it was occu- 
pied next year by a different kind of lodgers. 

"Sometime during that summer a small swarm of wild 
bees came along, settled on my boughs, and after some inspec- 
tion of the inside of this branch, took up their home therein, 
and went to making honey. I was much pleased with this. I 
was well acquainted with wild bees, as for many years they 
had been in the habit of lighting on my leaves and helping 
themselves to their juicy moisture. And so all that pleasant 
summer these industrious little things flew around me, bring- 
ing in their store of honey. And it seemed to me that I could 
almost taste it, for its sweet odor and flavor appeared as if 
it mingled with my sap and thus went all through me. One 
fine day, when the bees were busy at their work, a lone white 
man came along and stopped beneath me and peered up into 
my branches. I soon saw that he was watching the bees as 
they flew in and out of the little door of their home, and his 

22 



actions made me feel somewhat anxious and uneasy. I had 
learned to dread these people, for their presence always seemed 
the forerunner of some trouble to the wild things of the woods 
and streams. But soon the man went away and nothing hap- 
pened this time; but he came back again two or three times 
that summer, and each time stopped and looked awhile, as he 
had done at the first. The winter came, the bees quit work- 
ing, and bunched up in the vacant space in the hollow limb, 
in a kind of half-dormant condition. It was a very cold win- 
ter; the ground was frozen hard, and the wind sighed mourn- 
fully through the naked boughs of the trees. And one cloudy, 
bleak day again came that white man who during the summer 
had stood beneath me and watched the bees at work, and with 
him this time was another man. They came in a wagon drawn 
by a pair of horses, stopped near me, and tied their horses to 
a small bUsh. Next, they built a little fire, then took a long 
two-handled saw and a couple of axes from their wagon, walked 
up to and around me, looking at me intently as they did so, 
and talking to each other. A cold, horrible fear went through 
me as I noticed their conduct, and somehow I had a terrible 
apprehension that some evil was going to befall me. And it 
was not long before these forebodings began to be realized. 
They began chopping with their axes on my trunk, at a point 
a few feet above the ground. They cut through my bark 
and a few inches into my sap-wood, making a ring all around 
my trunk, and then b|egan work with their frightful saw in 
this circle made with their axes. I saw^ that my hour had 
come, and that I was doomed to destruction, but what the 
cause or reason for it was I did not yet know. My wood, 
was hard, dense, and tough, and the men made slow progress. 
Several times they stopped and went to their fire to warm 
their hands, for the day was bitterly cold. I had a faint hope 
that they might get discouraged and quit — but they kept on, 
and every screech of that saw, as its cruel teeth tore through 
me, sounded like a death-knell. And I stood so straight and 
was so evenly balanced that the men had to Sever my trunk 
almost entirely from the stump before the end came. But 
at last I began to tremble and sway, and finally, with a crash 
* 23 



/ 



that resounded far and wide through the forest, I fell. As I 
careened towards the ground, the strong fibers of the heart 
of my wood that had not been reached by the saw tore apart 
with a piercing shriek that sounded like the scream of some 
large wild animal in mortal agony. I had not more than 
fallen than the men, with the saw and their axes, ran to the 
limb that was the home of the bees, and with their tools re- 
moved a portion of the wood that covered the hive. The bees 
were numb with cold and could make no resistance. The men 
raked them up and threw them into their fire. Then they 
proceeded to scoop up and put in a vessel the little hoard of 
honey they found in the hollow branch. The quantity was 
trifling, for the swarm of bees was a small one, and they had 
not begun their work until rather late in the summer; so it 
did not more than fill a little tin bucket. The. men were dis- 
appointed and grumbled and swore about having worked over 
half a day in the cold and got almost nothing. I now under- 
stood the cause of my destruction. It had been done by those 
men to gratify their covetous desire for that pitiful little 
store of honey. They finally got into their wagon and drove 
away, and I have never seen them since. 

"When I fell with crushing force on the hard, frozen earth' 
many of my smaller branches were broken and scattered all 
around me; but my great, giant trunk withstood the shock, 
and, while now prostrate and helpless, is yet symmetrical and 
solid. And I am full of sap (which is the blood and life of a 
tree), so I am still in a state of existence and conscious of 
what is going on around me. But this can not last long, for 
the winter will soon be over, and the hot days of summer are 
coming on. And when the fiery, burning rays of a summer's 
sun fall upon me, they will dry up my life-blood, and then 
I shall be nothing but a lifeless log in the forest; decay will 
set in, and I shall moulder into dust. My end has come, and 
there is nothing left for me to do but say — 

"Farewell!" 



'^u 



^?0 



